


unanticipated daydreams

by guesso



Series: Gravity Falls drabbles and snippets [6]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: if you squint there's some Witchy Pines content, portal work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27939402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guesso/pseuds/guesso
Summary: it's hard, the chill, the definition of insanity, etc. And it's another morning. And years of mornings.
Series: Gravity Falls drabbles and snippets [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045817
Kudos: 3





	unanticipated daydreams

A  chill, a draft, remnants. Blueberry hands picked blooms from baseboards. How tired, tiring. Croaking complaints of the staircase, their crooked teeth protesting sharp winter air.

Saccharine acidity lingered, soaked in him. The stillness out of doors permeated the barrier, chastising him, letting him know full well his attempts (above, below) were in vain. Dulled pocket knife sunk into oak flesh, scrawling half-hearted pleas to the powers that be; desperate for some sense of security. 

The binding, covers were worn. It’d caught his eye over steaming coffee, in the glint of harsh overcast haze. Burgundy crumpled and frayed around crushed corners, revealing (ordinary, plain) stiff board (who knew it wouldn’t withstand [an] enraged pitch[es] to the concrete). Oh how many times he’d lived, would live, continued to live, these same moments; festering rage, shame bludgeoning, melancholic reminiscing, cyclical. Through years past, years yet to come, years still happening all at once.

Fleeting scraps of unanticipated daydreams showed him terrors of heaven and earth; ragged wounds in sky turned putrid, whiplash from the sheer speed of rotations, revolutions. Searing blue stillness brought on twilight, constellations burning bright, not being moved but moving.

He held no doubts; the end would come, his slow, deliberate hands the apex. Luck would run dry, but he hoped the elusive blanket of that peaceful hour would find him. 


End file.
